Colors
by zeppelins ghost
Summary: Colors mean something different to everybody. / drabbles, multiple themes. {reposted}
1. Green

**Green**

Sometimes Dean would stand in the mirror and stare. It was almost like he wasn't quite sure the person in the mirror was really him. He would study his face; the faded scars and the newer ones. Sometimes, in a vain habit, he would check to see if his hairline was receding. _Nope, devilishly handsome as ever, Winchester._

Most of the time, though, he would look at his eyes. It was always a relief, seeing green staring back at him. He would never admit it, but he was always scared that he would look in the mirror and see black.

"Hey green eyes, what can I get'cha?" It never used to be a compliment to him, but recently, it was one of the best compliments he could receive. The bartender handed him a whiskey and he downed it, looking over to the table where Sam was researching on his computer. Realizing he wouldn't be coming up for air soon, Dean looked around the bar, scouting. _Slim pickings_. He downed another.

Sometimes, he would look at Sam's eyes. He wasn't really doing it on purpose, but he found himself doing it more often lately. Sam occasionally caught him and gave him a dirty look, but Dean brushed it off. Not all of the time, but sometimes Sam's eyes were green too. As worried as Dean was when he looked in the mirror, he was just as worried when he remembered that Sam's eyes had been black before, too.

 _"Dean, Dean. You're eyes are so pretty, Dean."_

 _He couldn't find the voices, but he could distinguish a few. Lisa, who whispered it softly; Charlie, who echoed from the grave; Crowley, who just made the whole thing creepy; and then there was Mary - she sung it lightly._

 _"They were so pretty Dean, where did you're green eyes go?"_

 _And then the voices began to scream._

He woke up in a hot sweat, rushing to the mirror. _Green._ No black, no screaming, no 'where did you're green eyes go'.

Of all the things he could be thankful for, in that moment, he was thankful for green. He was always thankful for green.

* * *

 **As always, R &R!**


	2. BlueIndigo

**Blue/Indigo**

Blue was everywhere. Or maybe it was black. Perhaps it was blue before and now it's black, or perhaps, the other way around. Everything was foggy and reality felt like sand slipping through his hands. Dean couldn't feel anything, unless numb was a feeling. Was it cold? _Yes. Cold seems right_.

Blue. Cold.

His lungs burned and he couldn't remember breathing. What does breathing feel like? _I can't remember. Oh god, how do I-  
_ Everything started to fade again.

Blue. Cold. No breath.

He could feel something again. He could feel everything again. Pain - agonizing pain. His head, his chest, his throat, his eyes, every part of his body seemed to be screaming. Then it was gone again, as fast as it came, and everything was still. _He_ was still. The earth seemed to vanish from his reality. Dean didn't really know much about peace, but if he had to guess, this was what it would feel like.

Then he felt a tug, a pull, crushing his peace. The darkness lightened and suddenly everything was bright, much too bright. Voices. He could hear voices. Faint, but familiar.

"Dean. Dean-" they echoed, like the sound was bouncing around inside his skull. He tried to make himself move, but his brain wouldn't connect to his limbs.

"Dean. Oh god, you're gonna be okay. Dean, wake up."

He opened his eyes, but everything was still dark.

Blue. Cold. No breath.

And then nothing.

When he woke up, his lungs screamed and his head pounded, but suddenly everything felt real again. Sheets under his hands, pillow under his head, and normal, non-eerie colors. He looked to the side and saw Sam sitting in an undoubtedly uncomfortable hospital chair. Sam looked up and jumped at the sight of Dean staring at him.

"How are you feeling?" Sam closed the book in his hand and put it on the table beside them. "Actually, don't talk. Probably not a good idea." He pause. "You almost drowned... What a stupid way to die, huh? Demons, ghosts, and angels; sometimes I forget that we're the mortal ones." Dean looked down at the needles sticking in his arms. He already felt his energy slipping away from him. His eyes fluttered before closing all the way.

Two days later they were back in the car and Sam was driving (not that Dean didn't put up a fight). The sky was blue and the sun was warm on the leather seats. Dean glanced at Sam and turned up the radio before leaning back.

Blue. Warm. Easy breathing.


End file.
